


from the fury of the northmen, o lord:

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Atli's only the nice one by Viking standards, Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Viking-typical morals, it's not argr if it's all in the family, mentions of past underage, normal fans im so sorry for the incest demon that's seized me, nothing actually happens, threats of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Someone sees.
Relationships: Torgrim/Atli (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	from the fury of the northmen, o lord:

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry normal fans but the incest demon is only stronger now that the anime gave atli genuine brocon cumbrain to the point this thirsty ho is hugging himself whilst yelling at a priest that his "union" with his brother is the definition of love. someone please bitchslap both these freaks with a bible

Like beasts, disporting themselves in sin, they rock atop the manger that once fed her family's livestock. Two men. Two Norsemen.

"Hell's _bells_, you know how to take a cock."

"Is it safe?" the one beneath pants. "Been waiting months to yell, it feels like."

"I told them this one's ours. They know we're thorough with a house, they won't bother."

"You're sure they're not sniffing around somewhere?"

"Well, they could tell I wanted it for us. Probably think we deserve it if we're willing to walk all the way here."

"And the family? You didn't see anyone? You think they ran?"

"Come on, Atli, let me hear you howl. You're getting fussy in your old age."

"Remember I'm the one with his dignity on the line."

"And don't you give that dignity up faster than a bitch in heat."

A laugh. "Hoping to put a litter in me, then?"

"Oh, I like the sound of that. Two beasts from the same litter, getting at each other to make their very own set of pups. That's poetry."

"A drama worthy of the gods themselves." Some thrashing turns them into a single shadow. "Brother—!"

"Nordic dogs." The words slip from her lips unbidden. "Have you fallen so far from God's grace?"

The torchlight flashes over a pair of faces, capturing a moment of startlement as their gazes lift. Then another laugh from the one underneath. "You see? I told you you were careless."

"You've caught us at a lucky time, woman," says the other. "If we weren't so busy, there might be consequences you'd regret."

"I have made my peace with death this past hour."

"With death? Oh, we have better uses for you than that. You must have heard of us. We're _Vikings_."

"You dare threaten me? You dare think to approach me in my own home?" The village in flames and she still can't believe it. Even hearing the tales, no one ever truly goes to sleep believing _home_ is unsafe.

"Learn to fuck me like this and I might consider it." The mustached one—Atli—laughs, and bucks upward, the vulgar motion of an animal that has grown too bored or too hungry to suffer her suitor's attentions any longer. But this bearded suitor seems to find it pleasing, and he rewards his lover, his brother, with a slap that echoes to the back of the stable. Another perversion of God's gift of pain.

God help these men, but they must be steeped in sin to delight in receiving it so. Any man may sin against others, in word or in deed, and be forgiven. But to trade sin, and enjoy it? With the kin stitched tight to one's very soul in loyalty, closer than any bond of law or trade? Only a Viking savage could delight in this.

"You dare commit these outrages upon your own brother?" She directs it to the one on top, the one who seems to be committing more of the outrage at the moment. "How can you stand before even your pagan gods?"

"He likes it!" The man gesticulates in what might actually be genuine offense. "May your almighty god strike me down if I'd do my own baby brother wrong in any but a business matter."

"This arse taught him how to fuck, girly." Atli rises back up on his forearms and regards her. She can see the sweat shining on his face in the torchlight. "Don't mistake me for one of your weeping Christian babes with beards. Norsemen are fighters. This is a mutual arrangement."

"Yet you seemed reluctant to have your fellows learn of your arrangement."

Twin looks of irritation flash over their faces for the first time, expressions saying she's struck a blow.

"We have our laws," the one on top admits.

"And our honor."

"Some say—not me, Atli, not me—some say taking it up the arse is a behavior... less than manly."

"They say it's womanish." Atli looks right at her again. "Me, I don't think it's gotten me any closer to you. No urge to hide in the dark whining and whimpering."

"I do hear the Norse have words to describe one such as you."

Atli's body stiffens, enough to see even in the flickering light of the torch. "None such as you could use and hope to keep your tongue."

"You should see him fight," the other says, ruffling Atli's hair as any older brother might do. "My cocksucker little brother. Hah! He's a terror."

"Brother." Atli is still looking at her. "I'm not sure I like this woman."

"It's jealousy," the bearded one says placatingly, his hand lingering on Atli's head in nauseating mimickry of a husband's caress. "You'd understand," he says to her, "if you were born lucky like us. Most men are alone on the battlefield—alone in life."

"It's not out of shame we hide it," Atli says, in better humor now. "We're just keeping it from those who don't understand it."

"But not from me."

"Not from you."

"You know why," says the other.

She'd known before she ever spoke that she was trapped in the back of the stable, no chance of breaking for the open with them between her and freedom.

"Whoever made us, our gods or yours, we were made two halves and that's what we are."

"My God made no such monster." In Jesus' name, they do look like one being. A double-headed beast, blundering into her stable for shelter from the rain. If only the rains would come and wash them away.

"Inseparable."

"Always have been."

They seem hardly to have heard her, lost in some world together. For a time the only sounds in the stable are fittingly bestial. Even with their eyes closed she doesn't dare try escaping. They could catch her at the entrace just by casting out an arm. It's strangely insulting to be made to wait like this, but if it buys more time, they're welcome to their indulgence.

When Atli speaks again it's in a groan hardly more coherent than those of the last minutes. "Take me there."

"Louder. Louder for me."

"Brother! My only, only brother—"

"_Ah_, that's it—"

It's loud enough that she hopes their comrades do hear it, all the way down in the village. They bring cacophony in their wake just as they bring everything else. Fire, death, ruin.

At last their eyes fix on her with all the coldness of the North. No more delaying them now.

"So? What were you up to when we came barging in? You're not unmarried, are you, girl? Not with this big house?"

God may not forgive her this unpardonable sin, but it will keep her from torture, keep her from telling them yes there were horses, yes they did run, carrying all but the one who saw the fires and wished the horses numbered more than two, and yes I know the meaning of what the Lord names _family_.

_Cain may have killed Abel_, she thinks, _but at least he didn't fuck him._

She chokes back a laugh, wonders if God bothered counting that in his favor, and in the same moment pulls the knife from her sleeve, the kitchen knife she knew was no match for Viking steel, and in one quick motion pulls it across her throat.

Sharpness, an opening of what was closed. Light, fading.

"Damn! She's a quick one—"

Gray.

And dark.


End file.
